


Troll Hunters on a Train

by Minutia_R



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Future Fic, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8349175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/pseuds/Minutia_R
Summary: Of the hazards that she encountered as a regular part of her job, Agneta decided, she preferred trolls to Norwegians.  Trolls tended to be quieter and did less damage to the train.  Also, you could shoot trolls.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elleth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/gifts).



> Thank you so much to Kiraly, who let me bounce ideas off her, encouraged me while I was writing this, and looked it over when I was done. <3

Of the hazards that she encountered as a regular part of her job, Agneta decided, she preferred trolls to Norwegians. Trolls tended to be quieter and did less damage to the train. Also, you could shoot trolls. Unfortunately, Gräddnos, sprawled out in front of the weapons closet and industriously licking her own butt, didn’t seem disturbed by the thumps and grunts coming from the second passenger compartment, so it probably wasn’t trolls.

Well, you could shoot Norwegians, too--you just got in trouble if you did. Nevertheless, Agneta wasn’t ruling out any of her options right now.

Cautiously, with one hand on her gun, she slid open the passenger compartment doors. What she saw would have shocked her during her first couple of weeks working on the Dalahästen, when all she’d had to deal with were Swedes, a few haggard-looking Danes, and the occasional troll. Now, after having hauled a few shipments of Norwegians, she just sighed.

“You were instructed to store your weapons in the designated closets when you boarded,” she said. “No fighting on the train. Please stow your weapons, return to your beds, and fasten your bed belts.”

She’d pitched her voice loudly enough to carry over the shouted encouragements and the feet thumping against floors and walls. The pair circling each other in the narrow space between the ranks of beds didn’t pay any attention. The smaller one--a wiry blond woman, all elbows and shoulders--made a sudden low lunge with her knife, and the other one--her brother? The two shared a marked resemblance--stepped back and to the side, towards Agneta’s position. Agneta took the opportunity to shoulder her way between the fighters. “Sir,” she said, reaching over to clap the man on the arm--then she felt her own wrist seized from behind.

She spun around, drawing her gun in the same motion, and found herself facing a tall red-headed woman laying back in one of the middle bunks. The woman looked utterly relaxed, her free arm tucked under her head and a lazy, dangerous grin spreading across her face.

“You got a problem with my troll hunters, you take it up with me, got it?” she said. Then she sat bolt upright--bumping her head against the top bed in the process, but she didn’t seem to notice--and the grin on her face was replaced by something genuinely delighted. “Oh, hey, nice gun! It’s so … compact! I use a rifle, myself, and stick to blades for close-in fighting, but I guess when you’re riding this thing it’s a bit too late to worry about waking up the neighborhood, huh?”

“Yeah, the Dalahästen’s not really built for stealth. Unless the trolls are deaf, they--” Then Agneta caught herself. She wasn’t here to talk shop. She straightened up, reclaimed her wrist, holstered her gun. “I mean. In such a case, ma’am--”

“Captain,” the woman corrected her, tapping the rank insignia pinned to her fur cloak. They looked new and shiny, and she looked very pleased with herself.

“Captain,” Agneta said between her teeth. “Please instruct your troll hunters to return to their beds.”

“Really?” The woman flopped back onto her pillow. “The sun won’t be down for hours yet. What do you expect us to do?”

“If you like, I can lend you my copy of the Mora Evening News,” Agneta offered. If she gave one page to each troll hunter, there were probably enough to go around. She imagined they read very slowly.

The captain laughed hard enough to rattle her bunk. “Good one! Or …” She turned over and gave Agneta the suspicious squinty eye. “Are you serious? I honestly can’t tell if you’re serious.”

“If you don’t instruct your troll hunters to return to their beds,” said Agenta, out of patience, “I’m authorized to use force. And moreover, your military superiors will be informed that--”

“Freyja’s tits, that’s all I need,” the captain muttered. Then Agneta discovered that up until that point the woman had been using her indoor voice, and that her command voice could probably stun small beasts. “You heard the lady, people! She says she’ll tell Mom on us!”

A wave of grumbles swept through the compartment--but, much to Agneta’s surprise, it worked. The fighters sheathed their knives and deposited them in the weapons closet, and all the troll hunters who’d been sprawled half-in and half-out of their beds obediently tucked in their arms and legs.

“ _And_ fasten your bed belts, please,” Agneta said. A dozen buckles clicked into place in unison, and Agneta let the compartment door slide shut behind her and resumed her patrol.

\-----

The second time there was a disturbance in the Norwegians’ compartment, it was Gräddnos who warned Agneta. She didn’t arch her back, puff up, or hiss, so it probably still wasn’t trolls, but she suddenly woke from her nap and stalked back and forth between Agneta and the door to the passenger compartment, stiff-legged, tail lashing.

“Why me, though?” said Agneta. “Why not ever, oh just for example, Gustav?”

Gräddnos shot her a sidelong, impatient look and stalked back to the door. “Okay, okay,” said Agneta.

The only noises coming from beyond the door were the muffled ones of conversations, but Agneta felt a chill up her spine and hesitated for another second before going into the compartment. At first, everything seemed normal. A few of the troll hunters had fallen asleep, and the rest were talking between themselves. One of them was knitting what looked like a sweater for a baby troll, or possibly an octopus. Agneta almost backed out of the compartment again, and then she saw the person on the top bunk, in the corner by the door. She still had her bed belt around her waist, but she was sitting up on her knees, frowning intently. There was blood pooling in her hand and running down her wrist, and she was using it to scrawl weird geometric figures along the wall.

Agneta made a strangled sound in her throat, and her feet took her a couple steps backwards without asking her brain first. Which brought her level with the captain’s bed.

“Aw, just couldn’t stay away, could you?” It was the delighted grin, not the dangerous one, at least until she got a good look at Agneta’s face.

“I--” Agneta’s nerve failed her. “I have a problem with your troll hunters, I bring it up with you, right?”

The captain gave her the suspicious squint-eye. “Yeah …”

“One of them has cut herself open and is writing on the walls in blood.”

“Ah, Jenny,” said the captain, with a sigh somewhere between resigned and fond. She undid her belt and hoisted herself up on the edge of the bunk above her, so that her face was level with the other woman’s waist. “Hey, spooky! You’re freaking out the godless Swedes. What’s up? Freyja got a message for us or something?”

The woman--Jenny?--looked over her shoulder, hair hanging in ropes around her face, eyes wide and luminous. Literally luminous--they seemed to catch and reflect the dim lights of the passenger compartment like a cat’s. A trick of the light, Agneta told herself.

“On the way the giants crouch, horse-too-swift kicks over traces,” she said. “Comrades hasten, help to deliver, and so I have written the runes: a clear call for battle, a clear ear to hear it.” She drummed her fingers on the wall over the line of shapes, emphasizing them with a series of red dots above. “And so I have written: safe into battle, safe out of battle, and safe return from the strife.”

“Yeah, that’s great,” said the captain. “Excellent work. Only I’ve been told that we’re not supposed to have weapons out on the train.”

A small blade flashed in Jenny’s hand. “It isn’t a weapon. Its purpose is worship, and not to cause harm.”

“Uh-huh,” said the captain. “ _I_ know that, and _you_ know that. But if you’re done now, maybe you can put it away, huh?”

Jenny shrugged, wiped the little blade off on her sleeve, and slid it into a sheath at her waist next to a number of mysterious pouches whose contents Agneta decided she wasn’t that curious about. She also decided not to press the point about weapons belonging in the weapons locker. Jenny grasped her injured hand in her bloodied one, muttered something too low for Agneta to make out, and the blood stopped flowing.

“Bandage it too. You remember what the doc said,” the captain added. She watched for a little longer to make sure Jenny was following her instructions, then dropped back down onto her bed. “We good?” she said to Agneta.

There was still the matter of the creepy writing on the wall. But what the hell--the maintenance crew was going to have to clean these cars anyway when they arrived back in Mora. Let them deal with it. Agneta nodded.

“Good.” The captain wrapped an arm around her pillow and snuggled her face into it. “I’m going to get some sleep. You should too. Sounds like we’ve got a bit of excitement ahead of us.”

Norwegians. They were all crazy. “Can’t, I’m on duty,” said Agneta. “But thank you for the warning, Captain. And, ah--for handling the situation.”

“No problem,” said the captain sleepily. “And it’s Sigrun.”

\-----

Agneta hadn’t meant to take Sigrun’s advice--after all, as she’d said, she was on duty. But the next couple of hours were quiet and uneventful. The Norwegians all slept, and so did the rest of the passengers. The radio fell into static, as it often did, and Agneta switched it off. She leaned up against the bulkhead, only meaning to ease her tired shoulders for a minute. Some time later--she wasn’t clear on how much--she woke up to the sound of Gräddnos yowling loud enough to wake the dead. Back arched, spitting defiance, fur standing out in all directions--this time it was definitely trolls.

Not a problem. The Dalahästen would cut through them. Through the soles of her shoes, Agneta felt the vibrations of the great saw starting up. Then, a few seconds later, she was slammed violently into the bulkhead as the car lurched half a meter into the air, tilted crazily sideways, then landed more-or-less upright again and ground slowly, but not slowly enough, to a halt.

Agneta pulled herself to her feet, did a quick check of her weapons, jammed her hat back on her head. Flipped on the intercom. “What the hell is going on--”

Beside her, the door to the passenger compartment slid open. Sigrun was standing there, and that was the dangerous grin. Behind her were the two troll hunters who’d been fighting earlier, and Jenny the mage, and all the rest of them, all out of their beds, looking like someone had given each of them their own personal prinsesstårta.

“Need some help?” said Sigrun.

“That’s really not necessary,” said Agneta. “Please return to your beds. There may be a little delay, but it’s all under control.”

Gustav’s voice crackled over the intercom. “We’ve derailed! We’re trying to contact Mora Base to send out the maintenance crew with the Baggen, but we can’t get through--”

“A clear call for battle, a clear ear to hear it,” Jenny muttered nervously. “Freyja, send help!”

A light flashed back in the passenger compartment. “ _There_ we go,” said Gustav, before his voice descended into a rapid conversation with someone that Agneta couldn’t follow.

“So anyway, as you can see--” said Agneta.

Wilma’s voice replaced Gustav’s on the intercom. “They’re sending out the Baggen as soon as the sun is up. It should be here in two hours. We’re going to have to clear the track.”

“Ah,” said Agneta. She turned back to the troll hunters. Sigrun was lounging in the open doorway, with Gräddnos twining around her legs and purring, the traitor. None of them had returned to their beds. “I suppose … we could use some help.”

\-----

Wilma wasn’t very happy when Agneta showed up outside with a unit of Norwegian troll hunters. But she changed her mind as soon as she saw the huge battleaxe that one of them had retrieved from the weapons closet, and was now swinging idly in his hand as he walked, as if it was a toy. The giant they’d hit was big enough to derail the Dalahästen. Even if the Dalahästen had nearly done for it as well--a few rounds of lead, delivered by Gustav and Oscar while Agneta and the troll hunters were still getting into position, stopped it twitching--it was going to take a lot of work to get it off the tracks. The battleaxe and the enormous strength behind it would speed that up, no question.

And they needed speed. Sunrise was the barest suggestion behind heavy clouds and a constant drizzle of rain. The Dalahästen’s external floodlights pierced the gloom for a few meters all around, their protection a dubious trade-off for the fact that they made it impossible to see anything beyond their perimeter of light. Every beast, troll, and giant for ten kilometers around must know exactly where the Dalahästen was, and the defenders couldn’t see any of them until they were nearly on top of them. Which they were, soon enough.

It was long, slow, bloody work, the monotony almost blanking out the horror. The thunk of axe on flesh, another segment of the giant tossed out into the darkness, an arm’s-length of track reclaimed. A claw whipping into view, the sound of labored breathing, the chittering of teeth. A head lowered to charge, a spreading rack of antlers, coming too fast to think, only react. Shoot. Reload. Check your comrades on both sides. Breathe.

Most of the troll hunters had been put on giant-cleanup detail, either because their size meant they could do the most good there, or, like Jenny the mage who was armed only with her not-a-weapon ritual knife, Wilma didn’t have the heart to throw them into the teeth of the battle. But Sigrun was shoulder-to-shoulder with Agneta, and her two knife-fighters on the other side of her. She’d discarded her rifle a while back in favor of her shortsword, and when Agneta had to stop to reload, Sigrun leapt forward, blade flashing, opening up a beast from gut to throat. The warm stinking spray of troll blood hit Agneta in the face, and she didn’t have the time or the free hands to clean it off. The rain would do that, eventually. She raised her gun again, and for a dizzying moment of clarity in the midst of the battle, Agneta simply saw Sigrun. She looked good.

Not that she had looked bad, bored and antsy in the bunks in the Dalahästen. But the way she moved now, covered in gore, wet hair plastered to her skull and face, mouth wide in a battle cry--there was a fierce joy in watching her to what she was meant to do.

Only for a moment. Then a flailing limb knocked the legs out from under one of the troll hunters, and a troll pounced onto her from out of the gloom, and Agneta shot it in the head.

“Nice shot!” Sigrun called, as she went to help her hunter out of the tangle of dead troll. “I could never have made it without spattering Vilde’s brains all over the place too!”

The troll hunter bared her teeth. “That’s a filthy lie, Captain. You can do anything.”

It was the strangest thing, but Agneta understood how the woman felt. The offhanded praise Sigrun had given her spread through her chest like a warm drink.

As more of the giant was cleared away, the defenders had to move further down the track to cover the people who were working clean-up. Soon the lights of the Dalahästen were behind them, and the trolls grew bolder in their attacks. At least Agneta could see them coming from further away, once her eyes adjusted. Sigrun switched back to her rifle until the last of the last of the track was clear and they could retreat back towards the train. As they did, they saw another light coming towards them: the forward light of the Baggen, bringing the mechanics just in time.

\-----

Of course, they couldn’t rest right away. The mechanics had to get the Dalahästen back on the rails, and they had to be defended while they worked. It was an hour before the rain let up and the sun came out, giving them all a little breathing space, and another half-hour before the train was ready to go again. Then they all staggered aboard, crew and troll hunters both. Agneta was as exhausted as she had ever been. Her hands shook, and everything hurt. At least the troll hunters would get to sleep.

But Sigrun didn’t right away. When the rest of her hunters filed into the passenger compartment, she lingered behind, leaning against the bulkhead next to Agneta, giggling like a schoolgirl who’d just had her first shot of aquavit. “Did I tell you?” she said, hiccuping a little. “Did I--you fight good.”

“Yeah,” said Agneta sleepily. “You too.”

Sigrun slid down the wall until her face was level with Agneta’s. Agneta would just have to to turn her head in order to kiss her. So she did.

Sigrun pulled back for a second, grinning, delighted and dangerous at once, fierce with the joy of battle. Then she pushed her up against the bulkhead and kissed her back, with interest.

After a few seconds of kissing, standing up proved to be too much work. Sitting was awkward, but at least nobody had to hold themselves upright. Sigrun’s hands cradled Agneta’s face. Agneta dropped her hands to Sigrun’s waist, but there was way too much wet and bulky uniform in the way for that to be interesting. She nudged Sigrun’s chin up instead and licked along her jaw and down her neck. Her uniform might have been stinking and stained with unspeakable substances, but she tasted like rain and skin, clean.

Eventually, Agneta realized that Sigrun had stopped kissing her back, and that the weight pressing her up against the bulkhead had gotten somewhat heavier--in fact, Sigrun was snoring into her shoulder. Well, that was a little insulting. She knew she wasn’t the Known World’s most exciting lover, but no one had ever fallen asleep making out with her before.

She couldn’t really blame Sigrun, though. It had been a very long night. The only problem was, how was she going to get out from under her? She shook Sigrun’s shoulder, and, when that didn’t work, kneed her in the stomach. Nothing. After a lot of wriggling and strenuous protests from her knees, Agneta managed to stagger upright with Sigrun draped over her shoulder, boots trailing on the floor, and half-carried, half-dragged her to bed. She was smiling when Agneta peeled her out of her drenched cloak and outer tunic, tucked the blanket around her, and fastened her bed-belt. Dreaming of killing trolls, maybe.

They arrived in Mora a couple of hours later. Between decontamination and debriefing, Agneta missed the Norwegians’ departure. She never saw Sigrun again.

\-----

Until five years later, on another night run from Öresund to Mora in the early spring. She was checking tickets against passengers in the departure hall, and saw a couple of familiar faces: the pretty boy and the skinny little Finn who hadn’t been able to keep out from underfoot one memorable trip a few months back. They looked worse for the wear. Maybe whatever they’d been doing had steadied them out a bit, but Agneta doubted it.

“I’ve got my eye on you two,” she said, squaring off the tickets in her hand, “so you’d better--”

“Hey,” said a voice from behind her. “You got a problem with my crew, you take it up with me, got it?”

It was her. Sigrun. “I should’ve known they were yours,” said Agneta.

“Yeah, aren’t they great?” Sigrun draped an arm around each young man’s shoulder and squeezed. The skinny one managed to wriggle free. The pretty boy looked mostly resigned and maybe also pleased.

“They did … help. I suppose. In a way,” Agneta admitted. “What have you been doing in Denmark, anyway?”

“Oh, top-secret stuff,” said Sigrun loftily. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

Agneta looked Sigrun up and down. The white--or originally white--United Nordic Forces uniform suited her as well as the Norwegian one had. Better, maybe. The calf-hugging boots were a nice touch. “Pff. I’d like to see you try.”

“I knew it! You do like me, grumpy!” Sigrun loosed her hold on the young man to lift Agneta off her toes in an enthusiastic bear hug.

Did Sigrun think Agneta had been flirting with her? Well, maybe she had. A little.

“It’s Agneta,” she said when Sigrun set her back down on her feet. “And yeah, I do. But I’m on duty now. Buy you a drink when we get to Mora?”

“Yes!” Sigrun punched the air, then held out her hand to the pretty boy for a high-five. He gave it to her a little nervously, looking between her and Agneta. “C’mon,” she said, dragging him toward the boarding ramp and snagging the skinny one’s arm along the way. “Let me tell you about the time I met Agneta. It was completely awesome …”

Agneta followed them up the ramp after seeing the rest of the passengers on board. Gräddnos greeted her at the door, rubbing her head against Agneta’s leg, and Agneta bent down to rub her between the ears, with a probably-vain hope for an uneventful journey. Apparently, she had a date in Mora.

**Author's Note:**

> But where are Tuuri, Mikkel, and Reynir?
> 
> Possibility #1: They're around, but Agneta had no particular reason to notice them.
> 
> Possibility #2: Reynir went back to Iceland and Tuuri and Mikkel went on to Bornholm to surreptitiously sell some books.
> 
> ETA: Now with a bonus illustration, which I didn't want to post while this was still anonymous. The poses are by senshistock, and kattahj helped with the Swedish.


End file.
